


The Drowned God Rises

by qodarkness



Series: The Drowned God's Champion [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: But affairs of state keep interrupting them, Euron is dead but still making problems, F/M, Theon and Sansa just want to make babies and adore each other constantly, the Greyjoys have so many issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qodarkness/pseuds/qodarkness
Summary: ~It is why I need my champion,~ said the god, and shrugged at Theon’s raised eyebrow. ~I am a god. The god of the deeps and the drowned and the dead that never die. My way… my way would have the Drowned Men live up to their name and roll in the tides that swell in the depths until the fish and the worms and the small biting things have their way and even their bones are no more. You have taught me that there are other ways amongst men. Amongst the Ironborn. I trust you to guide my power wisely, Theon Greyjoy.~
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Series: The Drowned God's Champion [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530323
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	The Drowned God Rises

Sansa looked up from the Winterfell accounts which littered the table in front of her and smiled and then frowned at her husband as he came through the door. It took her a few seconds to work out why he looked so odd, but when she did, she shook her head and sighed.

“What?” Theon asked, innocently, as Sansa raised an eyebrow at him. 

“That isn’t the way you carry children, Theon,” Sansa replied. “Well,” she added, leaning back in her chair, “obviously that is the way _you_ carry children. He’s not supposed to be upside down.”

Theon made a face as he looked at his shoulder, over which he was carrying Robb as if he was a sack of flour. Theon grabbed the small feet that dangled in front of him and using his arm to support the weight, slung Robb off his shoulder and around in front of him. Then Theon flipped Robb over, so he hung upside down in the air, Theon holding him up by his feet. “Robb,” he said. “Mama says I shouldn’t carry you like this. Is she right?”

The small boy, all bright blue eyes and dark red curls, shook his head so vigorously that he actually began to swing back and forth like a small pendulum.

“Robb says he likes being carried like this,” reported Theon, solemnly. 

Sansa sighed, trying to sound put upon, though a smile curled the very edges of her mouth. “Why do you like it, Robb?” she asked. 

“Everyone goes upside down and side to side,” he said. “You look funny upside down, Mama,” he added and began to giggle. 

Sansa couldn’t help herself then and began to laugh. “ _You_ look funny upside down,” she said and then stood up and began to stalk forward, waggling her fingers menacingly in front of her. “And very, very easy to tickle.” 

She didn’t even manage to get near Theon before Robb started to shriek with laughter, madly wriggling to try and escape the oncoming threat of a good tickling. He laughed so much he started to hiccup and Sansa raised her eyebrow at Theon again. 

“He’ll be sick if you keep him like that,” she said and Theon looked at their son and nodded. With a swift movement, he turned Robb the right way up and then swung him around until Robb was perched on his shoulders, his giggling face peeping over the top of his father’s somewhat unruly curls. 

“Why was Papa carrying you upside down?” Sansa asked. 

“I got my shoes dirty,” replied Robb, kicking his feet forward so they swung out towards Sansa and then back into Theon’s chest until Theon, wincing, grabbed them and held them still. “The yard is all mud and stuff. Papa said the rain made the yard wet and then all the people and the dogs and the horses ran around and made it all muddy. And I walked in it and jumped up and down in the puddles and now my shoes are dirty.”

“Is that what Papa said?” replied Sansa, smiling. “And did Papa say what he’d do about all the mud?”

“Papa talked to Walter and Walter said they’d bring in some more rushes and straw and put some boards down in the wet bits and Papa said that would be good and then Papa took me to the stores room and the man there said some water had got into some of the barrels and we needed to get more turn… pips and meal and Papa said to see Walter and get some money and see some farmers near,” Robb’s tumble of words paused for a moment as his small brow creased in thought, “Last Heart and get some meal and turn… pips from them.”

Sansa laughed as Robb looked at her triumphantly. It seemed only a few short weeks ago that Robb had been saying little more than a few words at a time, but now it was near impossible to stop him from talking excitedly. And incessantly. “I’ll never need to spy on Papa while you’re around, Robb,” she said. “All I have to do is ask and you’ll tell me everything Theon does.” 

She laughed again as Theon rolled his eyes slightly. “Between Robb and the Drowned God, I don’t get to keep any secrets,” he grumbled, not very seriously. 

“Do you want to keep secrets from me?” Sansa asked pertly, one eyebrow raised and she tilted her hips suddenly, her right hand settling on her up-tilted hip.

Theon grinned suddenly. “Why would I want to keep secrets from my Queen?” he asked. “Particularly when she’s looking so… saucy?”

“I think Mama wants you to kiss her, Papa,” said Robb helpfully and both Sansa and Theon laughed. 

“After I’ve had a bath, I’ll kiss Mama,” Theon said. “I helped move a cart that got stuck in the mud,” he explained to Sansa. “Which is why I’m all covered in mud, which is why I was carrying this one. It wasn’t like he was going to make me much dirtier and it kept the flagstones cleaner.”

“How did he go with the fletching practice?” Sansa asked.

Theon’s eyebrows shot up and he grimaced, but his words were diplomatic. “He’s learning,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll get how to do the knots with a bit more practice.”

“I’m sure he’ll be good at it after a few weeks on the Iron Islands,” replied Sansa. “Are you looking forward to going to the Islands, Robb?”

Robb nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll see Grampa!” he said, enthusiastically. “He told Papa he’d come with us the whole way when we’re on the ship and then I can see him every day on the Islands, because the sea is all around them, all the time!” Robb’s eyes went wide at that thought.

“It is,” agreed Sansa. “And you’ll get to see Aunty Yara again.”

Robb ducked his head down then, nearly burying his face in Theon’s hair, suddenly shy. 

“You like Aunty Yara, don’t you?” Sansa asked. 

Robb nodded, a tiny movement, then whispered, as if it was a secret, “She’s a Queen, Mama!”

Sansa laughed. “I’m a Queen, too, Robb,” she said.

“But you’re Mama,” he replied, disbelieving. 

“And she’s the Queen,” Theon reassured Robb. “Not just of my heart. She’s the Queen in the North.” They had told Robb this a few times, but he was still not quite ready to believe that his mother was also the Queen who he saw sometimes, stern and crowned and distant in the Great Hall, surrounded by the northern lords. 

“Like Queen Aunty Yara,” breathed Robb. “You’re Queen Mama?”

“I’m Queen Mama,” confirmed Sansa. “And your Queen orders you and Papa off to have baths and get clean.” She leaned forward then, as if to stand on tip-toes and kiss Robb, but then she got a waft of the smell coming off Robb’s shoes and restrained herself. “And once you’ve had your bath, Robb, you’re to go to Maester Wolkan and start your lessons for the day.” Robb’s face fell a bit, but Sansa gave him a stern look and he nodded. 

Theon inclined his head graciously and turned. His hand was on the door handle when Sansa added, “Oh, and Lord Theon,” she said and he turned back and looked at her, “when you’ve had your bath, you’re to come back here and kiss your Queen very thoroughly indeed.” 

Theon’s laughter trailed behind him, filling the room with its warmth as he left. 

**

Sansa’s hands crept up Theon’s chest, eventually nestling just beneath his collarbones, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, mirroring his tucked into hers. 

“I wish I could come to the sea with you,” she murmured into the soft skin at the base of his throat. 

“I know,” he said softly. “I wish… but there are so many…”

The silence sat between them as they clung to each other, in the quiet of their tent. The guards and Maester Wolkan knew enough to leave them alone on this last morning in the heart of the Wolfswood, before they parted; Sansa to return to Winterfell, Theon and Robb and the guards going on to the shores near Deepwood Motte. 

“Responsibilities,” finished Sansa, eventually. “I am the Queen.” 

“You are the Queen,” said Theon and slowly drew himself back, until he could lean his forehead against hers. “We won’t be gone for long,” he said. “Just a quick trip to see Yara and the Drowned God and let Robb see the Iron Islands and we’ll be back.”

“I know,” replied Sansa, but it didn’t stop the tears that spilled silently down her cheeks. “It’s just… it’s bad enough when you go, but you and Robb… what if something happens?”

Theon slipped his hand beneath Sansa’s chin, soothed his thumb over her cheekbone, wiping away her tears. “We’ll be in the Sunset Sea,” he said. “In his realm. The Drowned God wouldn’t let anything happen to his grandson. I can’t think of a safer place for Robb to be.” He leaned into Sansa’s embrace again, and his lips nearly touched her ear as he whispered, “We’ll be back soon,” and he soothed his hand over her belly. “Before there’s even a bump,” he promised and Sansa made a hiccuping noise that was half a laugh.

“It’s only been three days,” she said. “Of course you’ll be back before there’s a bump.”

“I’ll send ravens,” said Theon. “Meet us at the shore. Let the Drowned God speak to the sea in you again. He would like to. He’s hoping it’s a granddaughter this time.”

“So am I,” said Sansa and then nodded. “I’ll meet you at the shore,” she said, and managed a watery smile. “Before there’s even a bump. I’m going to hold you to that, Theon Greyjoy.”

**

“Papa. Papa. Papa. Papa. Papa. Papa. _Papa!_ ” 

It was the last, somewhat desperate utterance that finally dragged Theon fully awake. He opened his eyes and only managed a couple of quick blinks, before a small face appeared only inches from his.

“Good morning, Robb,” Theon said croakily, his mouth dry. “It is morning, isn’t it?”

“It’s morning, Papa,” said Robb. “And I’ve been up and Grampa has shown me ten different fishes and a boat and a snark and he said, he said, he said…”

“Slow down, Robb,” said Theon, as Robb tangled his words so completely that his sentence shuddered to a halt. “What did the Drowned God say?”

“That when you came up on the deck, there would be doffins and maybe even a WHALE!” The last word was said with Robb’s eyes almost completely round with surprise and anticipation of delight. 

“Shark. Dolphins. Whale. Alright,” said Theon. “Can you go and ask Etta if she could get me some bread and butter ready and some small beer, and I’ll get dressed and come up on deck and find you.”

Robb’s nod was so enthusiastic he was almost blurry and then he was gone out of the cabin. Groaning, Theon levered himself upright and closed the door. He wore no scars since being remade from the sea, but he had never regained his comfort with other people seeing him undressed. Despite his and Sansa’s best efforts, though, Robb was still hopeless at shutting doors behind him. 

Theon dressed quickly, then slipped up to the deck via the galley, thanking the cook as he collected his breakfast. He remembered when there’d been no Ironborn women on their ships, but that was changing under Yara and Theon thought the crews were the better for it. His breakfast definitely was, at the very least. 

It was only when he got up on deck that Theon realised how interpretive Robb’s meaning of “morning” was; the sun was only just rising over the horizon and it wouldn’t have been more than forty minutes or so since it was light enough to count fish. Though, Theon conceded, Robb was probably given a great deal of assistance in that task by the entity currently standing next to Robb at the prow of the ship, nodding patiently as Robb pointed excitedly towards the water. 

“Drowned God,” said Theon quietly, as he came up on the other side of his god. The god still looked like Aeron Greyjoy but not. Instead the ocean was there somehow, a part and yet apart from the god, the curl of a small wave breaking, the glint of sun on drifting foam, the soft drift of a resting shoal of fish. It was only when you had looked closely for a minute or two that you realised that the Drowned God had no feet, his legs rising directly from the deck of the ship. From the sea itself, Theon knew, the god’s domain. 

The Drowned God looked at him, nodded. “Theon Greyjoy,” he said warmly. “Did you sleep well? Is your food pleasant?”

“Yes to both of those,” said Theon, putting his tankard carefully down on the deck between his feet, then leaning against the gunwale, comfortably propping his elbows on it, so he could eat his bread with butter as he watched the water. “Though it would have been nice if Robb had let me sleep longer.”

“He is very excited,” said the Drowned God. “There will be dolphins soon and,” he frowned and looked out into the sea, “there may be a whale. Or two. They are near but they may choose not to come.”

“Can’t you make them come, Grampa?” said Robb. “ _Please!”_ he beseeched the god. 

“They are busy, Robb,” said the Drowned God, gravely. “The dolphins are happy to play for you but the whales are going to their feeding grounds. I will not ask them to turn from their path for the sake of your fun. They will come or not, as they choose.” 

“But, but, but, you can _make_ them,” said Robb. “I want to _see_ them.”

The Drowned God turned his full attention on the small boy beside him. “The Wolf of the North is the Queen,” he said. “Would she ask smallfolk to give up their day’s food so she could have a bigger feast for herself?”

Robb shook his head, almost shyly. He didn’t know much about ruling yet, but he knew how hard Theon and Sansa worked to make sure all within Winterfell’s walls were fed, even when supplies were low and meals, even for the Queen, were meagre. 

“So I do not ask the whales to turn aside from their trips to the feeding grounds,” said the Drowned God, and Robb looked at his feet, abashed at the god’s stern tone. 

“Have you had breakfast?” Theon asked Robb, his tone a gentle contrast, trying to soothe Robb’s bruised heart. Robb shook his head. “Then I think you should swim to your feeding grounds,” said Theon and turned Robb around so he was facing towards the galley. “Swim down to Etta and get some food. You won’t,” he said, forestalling Robb as he opened his mouth, “miss the dolphins. Grampa will tell us when they’re going to be here and you’ll see them. Now swish your tail and go to the galley.” He patted Robb lightly on his bottom and smiled as his son’s little legs carried him sturdily across the deck to the hatch. 

“There are ships in the harbour at Lordsport,” said the Drowned God, quietly, as Theon turned back to the railing. 

“There are always ships at Lordsport,” said Theon, but his tone was wary. There _were_ always ships at Lordsport, so why would the Drowned God think to mention it?

“There are many ships,” said the god and an image bloomed in Theon’s mind, the harbour at Lordsport and the water beyond it filled with at least ten ships, mostly longships. “They came in one by one, as they always do, but they have not left and now they prevent access to the harbour. And Queen Yara has not come to the shore in many days.” The god looked at Theon then. “You will be there today. And Robb. I would have thought to speak to Queen Yara before now. But she has not come to the shore.”

~ _I am not sailing into danger with Robb, am I?~_ Theon asked, a spike of fear in his mind.

The glance the god gave him was almost but not quite offended. ~ _Robb will never be in danger. Not as long as he is on the sea. In my realm.~_ The Drowned God looked back across the sea to where the Iron Islands would soon start to creep into view. ~ _Before you left the North, Queen Yara said to me that there were some who were still unhappy with her reign. Perhaps they are the ones who have come to the harbour.~_

 _~And you didn’t think to mention this?~_ said Theon, but his mental tone was wry, rather than angry. ~ _I could have spoken to Sansa about it.~_

The Drowned God didn’t look at Theon, his gaze fixed on the sea. ~ _The Drowned Men… Your uncle… They are my priests and yet their prayers are full of… discontent. They turn their face from me. From Queen Yara. Because she was not sent to my halls by one of them, but by you, Theon Greyjoy. They question whether she was chosen by me. Whether the Drowned God would choose a queen to rule them. You are my champion, Theon Greyjoy. Queen Yara is my chosen queen. This is not a problem for the North, nor your Wolf. I need my champion here to show them that my choices were true.~_ There was a long beat of silence and then the god added, somewhat sheepishly, ~ _And if you had told the Wolf of the North, she may not have let Robb come to the sea.~_

Theon laughed then, and laughed even more when Robb’s curly head popped out of the hatch and then ran across the deck to hurl himself into his father’s arms, until Theon could swing him up to sit on the gunwale.

“Doffins?” asked Robb. 

“Nearly,” replied the Drowned God gravely. 

“Grampa would never let you miss the dolphins,” said Theon. “You should say thank you to Grampa.”

“Thank you, Grampa,” Robb chorused obediently and then reached out a hand and curled it over the Drowned God’s, where it rested on the gunwale. 

The Drowned God looked down at the small hand on his. ~ _I like it when Robb comes to the sea,~_ he said, and his voice was soft in Theon’s head. ~ _I would not have wished the Wolf of the North to keep him far from me. I will keep him safe, Theon Greyjoy.~_

 _~I know,~_ replied Theon and then pointed. “Dolphins!” he said to Robb, who gave a cry of delight as a dolphin leapt from the water in front of him, clapping his hands in joy.

They stayed there for a long time, watching the dolphins frolic and play around the bow of the ship, and then the two whales who had chosen to join them, who rolled and breathed close to the ship and then leapt high into the sky and fell with a crash back to the water further away, thrilling Robb beyond measure. 

The majority of the ship’s crew came and watched with them at some point during the morning. It was a much sought after thing, to be chosen to crew the ship that collected Theon from the shores of the North and took him home again after visiting Yara. All Ironborn knew that their god would join them on the journey and, as unimpressed as they tried to appear, Theon felt the deference with which they approached the Drowned God. Theon knew deference, its forms and reasons; deference born from rank and position, from age and wisdom, from skill in battle, and the deference born from fear, from pain, from utter terror and shame. The deference offered to the Drowned God was of another kind again; the worship born from being in the presence of a god. 

None of the Drowned Men, the most devoted of the god’s followers, had ever come on such a voyage.

Theon wished, for a moment, that Aeron Greyjoy still rode the sea in longships, but his uncle had long ago, long before Theon was born, lost the taste for it. Never more than whispers (for nothing in the Greyjoy family was ever said out loud) there were hints that Euron had taken the joy in the sea from Aeron, driven him into madness and ascetic devotion to his god, left him clinging to the shores of Pyke. If Aeron had come to the sea, had met his god, perhaps he would not now question the Drowned God’s choices. 

The Drowned God felt Theon’s melancholy, read the thoughts that led to it. ~ _You may be right,~_ he said. ~ _Mayhap the Drowned Men are not lost to me.~_

 _~Mayhap,~_ Theon replied, non-committal. He sighed suddenly. ~ _I do not wish to lose another uncle to… madness and poor choices. I cannot let him offer harm to Yara, but if I can turn him from his path…~_

 _~It is why I need my champion,~_ said the god, and shrugged at Theon’s raised eyebrow. ~ _I am a god. The god of the deeps and the drowned and the dead that never die. My way… my way would have the Drowned Men live up to their name and roll in the tides that swell in the depths until the fish and the worms and the small biting things have their way and even their bones are no more. You have taught me that there are other ways amongst men. Amongst the Ironborn. I trust you to guide my power wisely, Theon Greyjoy.~_

Once Theon would have cavilled at the Drowned God’s trust in him, but he had learned a great deal in the years since his rebirth from the sea and now he only nodded. ~ _I will do my best,~_ he said. 

“That is all I have ever asked,” replied the Drowned God and then added, “Robb, see, for you,” and Robb laughed as the dolphin rose high in the air, dancing on its tail, a frond of seaweed on its nose as an offering.

**

Lordsport was only a small harbour and there were only a couple of longships within its walls. Beyond the harbour itself, though, the waters were filled with longships at anchor, sails furled but blocking all paths to the port and the shore. 

“I see what you mean,” said Theon, as Symond Botley brought the _Iron Knife_ around, brought it to anchor near the closest of the ships, within hailing distance.

It took only a few minutes for the ship to notice Theon’s presence on deck and the captain of the other Ironborn ship was soon at its prow. “Theon Greyjoy,” he called across the sea and Theon shrugged and stepped to the prow, beside Symond. 

“Captain,” he called, his voice neutral. 

“You came,” the man replied. “We have been waiting for you, so called champion of the Drowned God, who lives far from the sea. Far from your home.”

“My home is in Winterfell,” replied Theon. 

“Your home is Pyke,” replied the captain. “If you are our champion, then you should be our king.”

Theon reared back, startled, exchanging a surprised glance with Symond then looked to the Drowned God, who stood beside him. “Robb,” he started and the Drowned God nodded. 

“I will get him to his cabin and make him safe,” said the god and then strode on footless legs to where Robb was excitedly watching the shore from atop a pile of cargo lashed to the deck. 

“Yara Greyjoy is your queen,” Theon called back, once he had seen Robb take the god’s hand. “Chosen by the Drowned God himself to lead you to glory and honour.”

“Glory? Honour?” The captain spat out the words. “Since when have Ironborn sought such things? We seek to pay the iron price, to reave, to rape, to raid, to bring back salt wives and treasures from the greenlander’s shores.”

“He is Thormor Ironmaker,” Symond murmured to Theon. “His father supported Euron at the Kingsmoot,” he added.

Theon nodded. “My sister swore to Queen Daenerys and the Drowned God that the Old Ways will be no more. There is no more reaving or raiding or raping and yet gold dragons flow faster than ever to the Ironborn,” he returned across the water.

“Your sister,” said Ironmaker and spat over the side of the ship, theatrically. “Did not get chosen at the Kingsmoot. She has not been chosen by _us_. She,” and he turned suddenly and waved towards the shore and Theon finally looked beyond the masts to the small figures that stood at the wall, “has nothing to offer us.” 

The group on the harbour walls was small, a few dozen men dressed in the robes, tattered and sea-worn, of the Drowned Men. In their midst, head held high with pride and, Theon suspected, incandescent anger, stood Yara Greyjoy, her arms bound behind her. 

At her side, holding her shoulder tightly, was Aeron Greyjoy. 

“Her own kin don’t want her as our queen,” cried Thormor. “The Drowned Man has told us that our god turns his face away from her, towards the North, towards you, his champion. Your uncle tells us that your return is a sign of what the Drowned God wants, the last living son of Balon Greyjoy to take his place at the Kingsmoot and be chosen.”

Theon shook his head, frustration building in him. “You are a fool,” he called out. “You are but, what… ten ships? Ninety longships do not join you, for they are busy trading and growing wealthy and fat with what Yara Greyjoy has brought to the Iron Islands. I would not win a Kingsmoot against Yara. She is your Queen!”

Ironmaker laughed suddenly. “That is if she makes it to the Kingsmoot, Greyjoy. They say you drowned her in Blackwater Bay, but the Drowned Men were not there to see it. Well, the Drowned Man will hold her beneath the waves of the Sunset Sea now. Perhaps the Drowned God will not send her back to contend the Kingsmoot.”

Theon did not even have to ask, the Drowned God knowing what he wanted, and his voice suddenly could be heard all throughout the harbour, even to the Drowned Men. “Do not do this, Uncle Aeron,” said Theon. “Euron killed our father, your brother, made himself kinslayer. Do not add to the sins that stain the Greyjoy name by seeking to slay your niece.”

There was tense silence then, as all eyes turned to the Drowned Men that stood on the harbour walls. It took a few moments, but finally Aeron said something, the actual sounds whipping away on the wind and not being heard on the ships. The absolute negation of the sharp shake of his head, though, made Theon draw in his breath with a hiss. 

“He is not slaying kin,” said Thormor and his voice was sly. “He is sending the Drowned God’s chosen queen to the god’s halls. Do you have so little faith in the god your champion, that you think he would not send her back? Or is that she is not his chosen?”

“He chose her,” said Theon, his voice suddenly rough. “As he chose me to be his champion. You cannot use me to try and depose my sister. I refuse to stand at your false Kingsmoot.”

Thormor shrugged. “Then we will stand the other male Greyjoy. Robb is young enough that we can turn him from his greenlander ways, make him a true Ironborn king.”

Theon’s face drained of blood then, his hands suddenly clammy. “I will not let you do this. I will not let you do any of it. Aeron will _not_ drown Yara. I am the god’s champion and I will not permit it.”

Thormor laughed then, long and hearty, disturbingly like Euron, so much so that Theon had to grit his teeth and clench his fists around the gunwale to stop himself for reaching for a bow and watching an arrow sprout from Thormor’s eye socket. “You cannot reach her, Greyjoy. Not before then. We have laced the waters of the harbour with seafire. If you try and ram your way through, we shall burn it all.”

Sick with horror, Theon looked at the waters of the harbour, saw the faint sheen of seafire that rode on the surface, ready to burn at the slightest spark. It had not the ferocity of wildfire, but the Ironborn had long used it in battles at sea; Euron had used it to set fire to the Iron Fleet when he had ridden in on the storm so long ago. If it was poured as a slick across waters, it would sit on the surface and burn, not long but hot. If it got amongst the wooden tenders and docks that lined the harbour…

“You would burn Lordsport,” Theon managed and Thormor grinned.

“It’s burned before,” he said. 

~ _Did you…~_ he started, but the Drowned God’s voice cut him off.

~ _I heard_ ,~ replied the Drowned God. ~ _What do you need?~_

_~I need to be on the shore. I need to be with Yara. To stop them doing what they plan. But there is seafire…~_

_~I made you from the sea, Theon Greyjoy,~_ replied the Drowned God. ~ _I can unmake you again and take you to the shore.~_

Theon didn’t understand what the Drowned God meant, what he planned, but he nodded anyway, trusting his god implicitly.

Theon Greyjoy dissolved, his body turning into seawater that seeped and dripped through the decking of the _Iron Knife._

Theon Greyjoy fell through the ship’s deck, down into the waters of the Sunset Sea, became the waters of the Sunset Sea. For a moment, he felt nothing but astonishment, but then his mind became the ocean, the sea and felt all that was within it. The shout of the sailors above him intermingled with the song of the whales they had passed as they headed to the waters that swarmed with the krill they would feed on, where a lone seal waited to snatch a squid that swam beneath the waters that was cousin to an octopus that rested in the coral that lined the shores of Dorne that rode the tides that swept out onwards towards Essos, widening ripples that rode all of the oceans of the world, the shape and warp and weft of tide and time and life and it was all there, Theon felt all of it, all the oceans in and of him, him a part of them and they a part of him and it was so large, so endless, so bounteous. 

~ _Is this what it’s like for you?~_ whatever Theon was now said into the sea, ~ _Always?~_

 _~Always,~_ replied his god.

~ _How do you concentrate?~_ said Theon as he watched a herring ball form off the coast of White Harbor and a seagull plummet and pluck a baby turtle from the waters off the beach of Naath and heard the clicks as a dolphin mother scolded her calf and…

The Drowned God laughed and Theon felt his mind shift, change in an instant. All of the ocean was still there, each vast, fascinating, terrible part of it, but he could put it aside, let himself think only of getting to the shore. 

And he rose from the sea, a leap of spray and water, licking over the harbour walls and Theon Greyjoy was reborn again on the shores of Pyke. 

The first thing he saw was the fierce lift of Yara’s chin, the pride and blazing fury in her eyes. The second thing he saw was the look of stricken horror on Aeron Greyjoy’s face. 

“Little brother,” said Yara and Theon nodded in acknowledgement but he turned to Aeron.

“Aeron,” he said. “Uncle. Do not do this.”

“You are…” Aeron reached out a trembling hand, touched Theon’s shoulder. “You were born… from the sea.” 

“I am his champion, uncle. The Drowned God made me from the sea and has made me again to protect his chosen Queen.” Theon’s voice was quiet, compassionate. He would kill Aeron to protect Yara if he needed to, but he didn’t want to. 

Aeron’s face distorted, a harsh drawing down of the corners of his mouth. “I did not… choose her. I did not send her to his halls.”

“But I did.”

“I need to… it is what _I_ do. I am the Drowned Man. I am the one who makes the Salt King.” Aeron’s voice was desperate with something that was between fear and anger.

They had told Theon, when first he had returned and Yara was starting the work of remaking the Iron Islands, of the making of Euron into the Salt King. Of Aeron drowning him and reviving him, saying the ritual words and then joining in the march to the shores, to murder Yara and Theon and secure throne and Iron Fleet for Euron. Kinslaying was the greatest sin amongst the Ironborn, against the Drowned God, and yet Aeron had made a kinslayer King and would have joined in the murder of his own brother’s children.

At Euron’s behest. 

Theon was certain of why Aeron was doing this. It was not a certainty brought by the Drowned God, but one that Theon knew deep in his bones. When someone had hurt you so completely, taken away any safety from you that, even after their death, you would do what they wanted, to try and stop them hurting you again. Even after his own death and resurrection, after the Maiden’s touch, there were still times Theon’s thoughts turned to try to make him do something because it was what Ramsay, the Master, would want. Those times were few now and far apart, but Theon knew that they would be part of him until he died again. 

“You would drown her, uncle. You would slay kin. You do not intend to bring her back.” Theon’s words were soft but relentless, his eyes on Aeron’s face. “It is what Euron would want, to have you kill Yara. The woman who took his crown. The woman who is a better Queen than he ever was a King.”

Aeron gaped at him, his eyes wild, an animal at bay, a feeling Theon remembered all too well. “I do not… I would not…” he started but could not finish the words. 

“You would,” said Theon, then drew a deep breath. “You do not need to do it, uncle. Euron is dead. Forever dead, barred from the Drowned God’s halls, he is nothing but scattered bones and ash lying on the bottom of Blackwater Bay.”

“He is not… in the Drowned God’s halls?” Aeron’s voice shook and his hand on Yara’s shoulder was suddenly trembling.

“He betrayed the Ironborn again and again, uncle. He slew his own brother to be King. He has been banished to the deeps, for the Drowned God will not have one who did the work of the Storm God.”

“The Drowned God… the Drowned God is mine,” said Aeron. “He was always mine. Balon had the throne and Euron had the seas and I had the god. I have… my whole life… I have never seen his face. I have never heard his voice.” He looked at Theon then, his face white, stricken. “You and Yara… you have walked his halls…”

Theon leaned forward then, his voice earnest, his eyes on Aeron’s face. “Do not do this thing, uncle,” he said. “Set Yara free, accept her as your Queen, let go of the Old Ways. Let go of the past before it drowns you. And the Drowned God will honour you and the Drowned Men and you will have high places in his halls until the end of days.”

~ _You will do that?~_ Theon added anxiously in his head. ~ _I think you will do that, but if…~_

 _~I will do that,~_ the Drowned God responded. ~ _You are my champion for a reason, Theon Greyjoy. Your choices are wise and merciful. And the Drowned Men have always sought to do my will before they strayed from my path. There is a place for them in my halls.~_

“He will forgive me,” said Aeron, softly, entirely to himself and his hand dropped from Yara’s shoulder. 

For a moment Yara grinned at Theon and then her eyes widened, looking over his shoulder and Theon turned to see Thormor Ironmaker put flaming arrow to his bow, about to send it arcing up and into the slick of seafire. 

~ _Robb!~_ Theon shouted desperately inside his mind. ~ _Father!~_

The Drowned God rose from the sea.

Not the nearly but not Aeron Greyjoy that he had been before, but the ocean itself, faceless and formed of little more than the shape of driftwood and spume and a roiling mass of seawater and foam, the Drowned God rose up in Lordsport Harbour in his full power and fury. 

The ships that rode there rose high into the air on his shoulders and then fell, breaking apart as they plummeted, men spilling from deck and rigging into the churning, heaving waters. The arrow, high in its flight, was lashed by a tentacle of seawater that rose from the Drowned God’s chest, curled around its flame and doused it. Then the water drew inwards to the god, near emptying the harbour and he winnowed it, pulling the seafire from it and then sending it outwards, safely far into the Sunset Sea, then letting the water flow back down from his form until it filled the harbour again, leaving tangled wrecks and flotsam behind it, with the Ironborn sailors who had crewed the ships clinging to the wreckage. 

The only ship that rode the sea still whole was the _Iron Knife_ , floating on the suddenly calm waters beyond the harbour. Far out to see as is was, Theon could still see the astonished look on Symond Botley’s face at what had just happened in front of him.

Then the Drowned God _contracted_ , suddenly looked no more than the older Ironborn man he normally appeared, standing just beyond the wall that the small party stood on.

“Theon Greyjoy,” said the Drowned God gravely, then nodded at Yara. “Queen Yara.”

She tilted her head at him. “Drowned God,” she said and then looking around as if she realised only then that she and Theon were the only ones standing, and that everyone else was on their knees, fallen in worship before their god.

And as Theon began to cut apart the bonds around her wrists, the Drowned God turned to the small knot of men around them. “Aeron Greyjoy,” he said. “Drowned Men. My champion spoke true. Turn your eyes from the past. Turn to the new ways that Queen Yara brings you, for she will bring the Ironborn to me trailing clouds of glory.” He reached forward then, from the sea, suddenly large enough to touch his hand to Aeron Greyjoy’s forehead, seawater trickling down the old man’s face, baptism and benediction. “Let go of all of the past, Aeron Greyjoy. Relearn your love of the sea. Sail on its breast again and at the end of your days, regale me with tales of it when you dine in my halls.”

Aeron Greyjoy looked up then and although the saltwater on his face was both sea and tears, his smile, for the first time Theon could ever remember, was full of joy. 

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. I shall sail upon the sea again, my Lord.”

**

“And then,” said Robb, very importantly, “then Papa was shouting at the man on the other ship and then Grampa took me to my cabin and then he made the walls turn into water and the water was all around me and nothing could come in and there were little fish swimming in the water and then the ship bounced up and down and I bounced on the bed and the fish bounced and made me laugh and then Papa was on the shore and Aunty Queen Yara and old uncle who looks a bit like a fish, Mama, but don’t tell him I said that and then the water went away and I got out and there were all these sailors in the water and their ships had broken and Grampa got them all out and they kept saying that no-one had drown-ded and they were surprised, but then Aunty Queen Yara rested all of them and that would be nice, because its good to have a rest, specially if your ship is all broken.”

Sansa looked at her son with one raised eyebrow and then turned to Theon. “Did he actually take a breath during that?” she asked her husband.

Theon shrugged. “The Drowned God is his Grampa,” he said. “Maybe he’s part fish and doesn’t need to breathe.”

“Oh,” said Sansa and half-laughed but it was breathy and somewhat unconvincing. “So long as he was safe. That Grampa made him safe.”

“Grampa made him safe,” said Theon. “He made Yara safe and now Aeron is… he is not beholden to the hurts that Euron did him.” He shook his head slightly at Sansa’s enquiring glance. “I do not know and nor does Yara. But Euron… I saw him at the Kingsmoot, Sansa. He was… he was another Ramsay. He liked hurting people. He… what he did on the _Black Wind_ , to the crew,” Theon stopped, shuddering. “I think… I think Aeron was the weak brother. I think he was… _practice_.”

Sansa nodded slowly. “I am glad that he has found some peace and met his god, then.”

“Yara needs to find an appropriate punishment for them, but she is clever. Far more clever than I am. I’m sure she’ll find a way to turn their minds away from the Old Ways.” 

“Yes,” said Sansa, and then glanced at Theon with a frown. “As I need to find a way to punish you,” she said, then scooped up Robb with a kiss for the top of his curls. “For sailing into danger with Robb.”

Theon looked at her with wounded innocence and Robb snuggled into Sansa’s neck, smiling at his Papa. “Robb was never in danger,” he protested. “The Drowned God was never going to let that happen.”

“But you got turned into seawater,” said Sansa, reasonably. “What about if you hadn’t turned back?”

“I am made of the sea, Sansa Stark,” said Theon. “You have known that since the day I came back to you. I just,” he frowned and scratched at his neck. “I wasn’t aware it was quite so literal until I… dissolved. But,” he added reasonably, “I kept my promise to you. There isn’t even a bump.”

Sansa laughed. “That is true. I _may_ take that into account as mitigating circumstances.” She kissed Robb’s curls. “Do you like that you’ll have a sister?” she asked him. 

Robb nodded. “Grampa was happy it was going to be a girl. He smiled when he rubbed your belly, Mama.” 

“Yes, he did,” said Sansa. “Now we just have to wait until we can meet her.”

**

“Have I been forgiven?” Theon turned over in the camp bed, said it to Sansa’s barely visible profile in the dim moonlight that filtered into their tent. “I could try for a third round, but I might need to raid the food stores to get some energy if my Queen is not yet satisfied…”

Sansa’s laugh interrupted him, a throaty chuckle. “Perhaps tomorrow night,” she said, her hand closing around his. “We should probably let the guards try and get some sleep.”

“You were quite… vocal,” said Theon. “Especially your fourth peak. Or was it your fifth?”

“I can feel your smug grin, Theon Greyjoy,” said Sansa, “even in the dark.”

“Good,” said Theon and kissed her temple. There was silence for a little while, then he said softly, wonderingly, “It is an odd thing to be a god.”

Sansa turned over then, brought her face so close to his that he could dimly see that she was watching him. “A god, Theon?”

“I…” Theon stopped and thought about it for a moment. “When he unmade me, when I became the sea… I became all of the sea. All of the ocean. I felt… everything. All of the tides, the waters, the creatures within, from the largest to the smallest. I could feel what it was like to be… a kelp forest waving in the waters. To be a whale. To be the flow of the tides in the deep waters. Just for a moment, but it was… I don’t think I have words for it, Sansa.”

She searched his face in the near-dark, then kissed him softly. “I don’t think there are words for it, Theon. I am glad he made you again from the sea, though. I prefer you here, in my bed, than being a god in the sea.”

“He promised us forever, Sansa,” Theon reminded her. 

“He did,” she replied. “And I will hold him to that. You might be his champion, but you’re my husband and the father of my children and I am not letting you dissolve into seawater again.”

“I solemnly promise not to dissolve into seawater again,” said Theon, then frowned. “Actually I think it might be better to promise that if I _do_ dissolve into seawater, I will always return to the Wolf of the North. Until the end of all the world’s days.”

“I will hold you to that,” said Sansa, firmly, then snuggled against his chest. “Do you know one thing there is about being pregnant?” she said, after several minutes of silence. 

“No,” said Theon, somewhat warily. 

“I’ve always got spare food nearby. I’ve got two bread rolls in a pack under my side of the bed.”

“And?” Theon replied, and then grinned as Sansa rolled over and rummaged under the bed and then finally sat up with a bread roll in her hand. 

She handed it to Theon who looked at it and then up at Sansa, puzzled. “This way you don’t need to raid the food stores before we try for a third go,” she said and Theon laughed as she swung her leg over him and set to work. 

**

Theon’s sleep was deep at first, but then he rose from the depths of it to find himself in the ocean again, his mind questing out as it had before, feeling all the parts of the seas, from the deepest trenches to the waves that lapped the shores. At first he thought he would drown in it and then he remembered what the Drowned God had done and again he felt the press of everything recede, let him concentrate on aspects that fascinated him; the shape of the fish that looked like a sword but its back wore a sail, the glitter of a sea snake that swam above the coral near Naath, the feel of the pressure in the deepest places.

“It is a beautiful thing, the ocean,” said the Drowned God, suddenly beside him. 

Theon turned and frowned. “You do not normally come to me in dreams,” he said. “Is this a dream?” he added, for it didn’t quite feel like one. 

“It is my realm,” replied the Drowned God. “You have come to my realm in your dreams, but it is not a dream.”

Theon nodded. He wasn’t sure that would make sense in the waking world, but here it did. “It is beautiful,” he said. “I did not know how beautiful until…” He stopped abruptly. “Sansa does not want me to become a god in the sea. Am I? Becoming a god?”

“Not exactly,” replied the Drowned God. “I… when you went back to the sea, I had to… make new spaces in your mind. It is too much for a human mind to see all of the ocean. You cannot hold it. If I had left you as you were, you would have lost too much of yourself to the ocean. So I made you more space. You can hold the ocean in your head now, Theon Greyjoy. And,” the Drowned God’s voice was suddenly shy, “you have always let me inside your mind. You have never sought to hold me out, to reject me. Even when what I saw was not what you wanted anyone to see. I thought that you might like it to be inside my mind. To see what I see.” 

“That is a great gift,” said Theon, softly. “I thank you, Drowned God.”

There was silence then, the deep silences of the cold places where the oceans became ice, the silence of the depths, the silence of the spaces between small waves on sandy beaches. “When,” said the god, slowly, “when you thought that Robb was in danger, when the arrow was flying to the seafire.” He stopped abruptly. It took a few moments for him to say softly, “You called me father.”

Theon drew in a deep breath, held it and then let it sigh out of him. “Yes,” he breathed. “I did. You have made me. Again and again, you have made me. I do not want to presume, for I am only your champion, but you were there. When I needed you. When Robb needed you.” He gave a shuddering sigh. “You were there and you made us safe. As a father should. I shall not… presume again, Drowned God.”

The Drowned God turned then and looked at Theon and for a moment it was hard to look upon him as everything within him roiled and changed shape and spun, a maelstrom of agitated waters. Then it settled suddenly, went still and the Drowned God’s aspect became that of a calm sea. 

“I liked that you called me father,” he said then, softly. “I would be honoured if you would think of me as your father. Because I have grown to love you dearly, Theon Greyjoy.”

Theon looked at the god then and his eyes filled with tears suddenly, that he dashed away with the back of his hand. “I…” he said, unsteadily. “I never knew what it was to have a father that loved me, who I could love. Balon… had no use for me. And Ned was… he was kinder than he needed to be, but his was the hand that held the sword that would take my head… I never knew… until you.” He raised his head then, held it proudly high, and nodded at the Drowned God. “Father.”

“Theon Greyjoy,” replied the Drowned God, warmly. “My champion. My son. Let me show you my realm.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So, um, I seem to be slowly and somewhat accidentally turning Theon into a god. It wasn’t particularly what I intended but, well, stories do that to you.
> 
> As for Aeron - this is the TV Aeron, not the book Aeron, Who is a much stronger person. But TV Aeron was willing to both go along with a kinslayer and to become a kinslayer, which is the ultimate sin against his god and I was like "why?". And I read somewhere that there is a theory that Euron abused Aeron and I liked the idea of Theon understanding the ongoing effects of trauma and abuse because, man, he’s been there. And that Aeron clings to his god because Euron stole everything else from him, stole the sea from him, and doesn’t understand why his nephew gets to be the champion...
> 
> Seafire, BTW, is some kind of combination of something like pitch and naphtha. Both when it is used as Euron did it, but just naphtha when it is spread on the water to burn. It isn’t wildfire, which (to me) is something more like white phosphorous.


End file.
